Leaving
by Hovinarri
Summary: So apparently those three years and five months, almost two weeks to top that of working together didn't matter anymore, because Deidara wanted to go back home and leave life in Hollywood, with Sasori, for a little flat in the heart of Paris. And obviously, he wanted to leave with zero regrets, but was that kind of a goodbye really such a smart idea? SasoDei, drabbleish one-shot


Heyo. I'm still alive, so I figured that since I had this practically finished drabble one-shot from June or something, I could post it here to keep you guys company(?) while I'm sorting out ch. 37 of Trump Card. If you aren't reading that... well, nice to meet you then. :)

Must do dedications... even if you guys don't like it (wouldn't blame ya), here goes to AkumaNoDanna, because you wanted to read this no matter how I feel about it, and to Laughmaker just because~

Italics are thoughts or emphasis', lines are changes of time or place or maybe even POV. :D Oh and the few words of French here should be understandable in the context~

_I don't own the characters_ or PlayStation or anything else possibly owned by someone else. Go Google 'em. I do, however, have a PS2 that freezes around the conclusion of every movie~ But it plays games fine so I don't mind~ And I do also own a dream of living in a tiny apartment in the heart of Paris and studying in La Sorbonne. That's why I wrote this to begin with... One day... One day. Maybe?

Another reminder; I just wanted to write something to practise describing things with, so it's not that special...

Go ahead, read on already, I'm done blabbling for now~ :D

* * *

"I'm finally leaving this place," a blonde young man murmured dazedly, plopping down on the bed of their current hotel room, to which the springs voiced their disapproval under his barely existent weight by squeaking loudly. "Can you believe it, un?" He kept on using that strange speech habit of his no matter how many times his working partner complained about it. The other found it very annoying, to be completely honest, especially since he was aware that _somehow_, the blonde had never _slipped _in any of the movies he had starred in.

_No, I can't. I thought you liked it here._

"Barely," the formerly mentioned, redheaded working partner responded, arms crossed across his chest and mouth in a flat line as he leant against the door frame. He went by the name Sasori, and he didn't like the situation he was currently being presented with; that being how his closest companion and only sort-of-friend was suddenly announcing that he was quitting work and leaving to his home town, _Paris_, of all places.

"It's every actor's dream to get to where you are now, and one day you just call it quits. No, I certainly don't understand, and if this is another strange antic of yours, I'm certainly not amused, brat." He may have sounded a bit bitter, but what did it matter? The brat, also known by his name, Deidara, quitting meant that the chance of them meeting would go from a necessity every single day to a chance encounter somewhere twenty years from now in a night club when the blonde came back to visit the place he had spent so long in.

And he would be wearing a ring, the redhead was certain. He would be wearing a simple, yet expensive golden band in his left ring finger. He wouldn't mention it, but if asked about it, he would smile in a strange way and mention something about his beautiful wife and three kids, those being two twin girls and a baby boy.

"Hey, I'm not just quitting out of the blue, un!" Deidara suddenly insisted, glaring at the other half-heartedly, "You know that this is not really my thing… So I'm going to go back home and see if my apartment is sti-"

"That shithole you call your _home_?" Sasori hissed, happy to get an excuse to interrupt the other. His eyes narrowed as he continued, "The place with one broken window-"

"I _fixed _it, un!"

"With _duct tape,_" he sneered, "And you didn't even have a proper bed in there!"

"Of course I did. I had a perfectly good futon spread out on the floor, un. Besides, it's a window from which you can see _La dame de fer." _At times like this, Sasori felt like Deidara was using French just to spite him. It couldn't have been _that_ difficult to dig his brains for the English translation, because Deidara did speak English for most of the time. Besides, when they did a movie that was set in Paris (which had made Deidara rather ecstatic), not once had he forgot to call the symbol of the town _The Eiffel Tower _instead of… whatever that was_._

"You probably don't get it," the blonde lectured on, "But a flat like that, in the heart of _Paris_," he drawled the 'r' like the French tended to do, spelling the name like Pa'rii, only managing to annoy Sasori further, "is insanely expensive. Besides, it has a balcony, too!" Deidara was scowling now, his former _hooray for leaving_-attitude wiped away for the time being. "Most importantly though, it's my home. You wouldn't understand, un." There was an unspoken _you don't have a home_, but neither of them felt like addressing it right then and there.

_Why would I? You're leaving your career and the movie deal you got and you're leaving and not once even mentioning that you might miss it all._

"It's a shithole."

"It's home." A thoughtful pause as he thought it through. "I'll miss this place too, though. It's been fun for the last few years, un."

_Three years and five months._

"Fun?" Sasori arched an eyebrow, "You barely even _got_ laid." That needed to be said, because Sasori probably would've preferred if he got laid more often… Though that depended solely on the person he was with."Hey, I was a_ virgin, _you got me _drunk_ and that was _one time_, un! Besides, I wasn't even talking about that kind of fun!" Deidara defended, his face flushed as he threw the nearest object – a small bag that held his toothbrush et cetera – at the redhead, who successfully dodged being hit by it.

_That night you called the worst mistake of your life? Well, at least you didn't say that I was the worst lay of your life…_

"You were pretty willing back then…" he coaxed, throwing the small bag back at his (former) colleague.

"Shut it. I said I was drunk, un," Deidara hissed, bending down to pick up the unfortunate object from the floor. "I had fun _working_. I'll make sure to watch our movies once in a while, un."

"Do you even _have _them? Or even a DVD player, to begin with?" Sasori asked. He could faintly recall Deidara mentioning a small, grainy TV when they went to the movies once, but a DVD player had never come up in any of their conversations, as far as he was concerned at least.

"I'll have you know that I have a perfectly good PS2 at my disposal, un."

Oh, that. Sasori remembered that. "The thing you got used and that freezes around the conclusion of every movie?" He snickered faintly (and in a very, very forced way as well, as laughing wasn't exactly one of his fortes) to make it clear that he was mocking his partner.

"Shit, are you stalking me or something, un?" He frowned as he spoke, "But anyways, I have that, and I also have a copy of our movies. Remember who gave them to me for Christmas, autographed and all, un?" Since you got them for free…"

_Well sorry for wanting you to have something you could remember me by._

"You _begged _me for them." He smirked in his head, recalling Deidara politely asking if he had any use for the movies his manager had given him.

Sasori had drawled that he might watch them or he might not watch them, but saw no better use for them than to keep them for future use, to which the blonde had pleaded, wide eyes and all, to have them since his own manager wasn't as kind and caring as Sasori's supposedly was.

"Did not, un! Deidara disagreed, though he was blushing slightly. "I just thought that you wouldn't need them and…"

"_Of course_," Sasori agreed, still smirking on the inside as he mock-bowed in what he wanted to seem like defeat, "Sorry to have ever doubted you."

After that sentiment, Deidara picked up that small bag he had thrown before, and for the first time in ages, minutes seemed to tick much faster than they usually did."So, when are you leaving?"

"In fifteen minutes or so," Deidara responded airily, "My flight for Paris is leaving at eight PM, un."

"Another night flight?" He guessed, since Hollywood was here and Paris was _way_out there. He had never been there, himself, but he did know the place. Deidara talked about it a lot.

"Mmm-hmm. You know I love those."

_Yeah. Last time you fell asleep on my lap…_

"Besides, it'll be almost morning when I land in Paris, un."

As an awkward silence hung in the air, Sasori shifted his weight to his other foot subtly.

"Want me to walk you there?" he offered to get a little more time. After all, the airport wasn't more than a few miles away, and it was barely five either way…

"No thanks. I've got a taxi for that, un."

"Well…" the blonde murmured as the yellow car pulled up in front of the hotel. Sasori privately wondered why the blonde hadn't got himself a limousine. Himself, he might have. The things got around quicker since people were often too dazed by them to move. Not to mention that one could get an experienced driver to go with it... "Here goes. I'm going to miss you and shit… You're an awesome actor. You're going to go far, I swear, un."

"You would've-" Sasori started, wanting the blonde to know that he wasn't that bad himself. He was good actor, yes – all those movie deals hadn't just fallen from the sky after all – but he was also something people wanted to look at. And the redhead had been standing on the red carpet with him before, and it could be said that while Sasori was all frowns and glares, like he usually was, the other man had completely and utterly owned the place.

"Yeah, I probably would have and it can be said that I really don't care. I'm leaving and I have zero regrets, un," Deidara insisted. He then bent forward (_and downward,_while at it), pressing his lips to Sasori's. And there was only one thought going through the smaller man's head.

_...it wasn't a mistake._

"Now I have zero regrets, anyway, un," were the last words he said to Sasori as he hastily closed the car door.

* * *

_I lied. I lied to him._

Deidara couldn't get rid of that one thought; it was like acid, burning its way through every corner of his mind and drowning out everything else. It hurt him, knowing that he wasn't going to see his partner in anything but movies and the TV and in some occasional front page story that he would surely read, no matter how much it pained him, from now on. It hurt him that he couldn't have even been honest to the redhead.

He should've told him just how much he cared.

_Yeah, that would've been a great start_, he thought as he fidgeted in his seat, trying to tighten the safety belt so that he would feel a bit safer in the heart of the busy town. _Or a fine ending. Instead I went and babbled some strange nonsense about work. Pathetic, Deidara, pathetic._

And then he should've told Sasori that it hadn't been too bad, that one night they spent together.

Because it_ hadn't been bad _was actually kind of a mild term. Even though he had spent the next morning, or day, or weekend, throwing up and awkwardly avoiding the other man, it had still been worth it. He just couldn't admit that after the mental break-down it caused. Not to Sasori and not to himself.

And finally, he should've never said that he was leaving without regrets now.

He had so many regrets that just beginning to list them brought an unhappy scowl to his face. So many regrets that he was certain that even if he did get a chance to go back and fix them, he still couldn't make it all work out.

_Not to mention that goddamned kiss! _He shook his head unhappily, ignoring the strange look he got from his driver. He shouldn't have taken that kiss, he knew that now. If he hadn't done that, leaving now would certainly be easier. Then his thoughts wouldn't be circling around the redhead and his stupid, soft lips and the surprised look on his face.

Obviously, Deidara had always planned on going back to Paris. It was his home, it had been his home since he turned sixteen and would probably always be his home. Besides, he hadn't kept that insanely expensive flat all these years for nothing. Not to mention how lately, he had been missing the late night walks to the Eiffel Tower and the visits to Louvre he did once every year or so. He had left it all pursue his dream of becoming an actor, but now he wanted back to studying in _La Sorbonne_ and painting and selling his work of art on the street. Sasori had been aware of that, too. Still…

Had it come too suddenly, for both of them? Should he have warned Sasori a few months in advance instead of cancelling his movie deal one day and just starting to pack his bags a week back? Yes, that sounded like it would've made this all more tolerable…

"I'm sorry, un," he murmured to himself, again ignoring the way the taxi driver extended his neck to give him yet another puzzled look. The man then inquired him if _everything was alright_, which his mind translated into French without his consent. And here he thought that he had got over that habit by now… Apparently not. He sighed, pressing his cheek to the cool window and staring out to see the sun still shining brightly in the horizon.

_Tout est en ordre… How depressing._

* * *

Sasori stood in the hotel lobby with an empty, sinking feeling for another fifteen minutes before it finally occurred to him that Deidara had, at some point of time, felt the same way. Probably still did, if _that just_ _now_was any indication.

It wasn't like that mattered now, though. Deidara was flying to Paris and presumably spending the rest of his life living in that little shithole apartment of his, while Sasori would be here, doing his job. _He was going to go far._

They had had a good three and a half years, though…

The redhead took another look at the hotel room, incredibly clean now that Deidara's belongings were gone and his were packed. He was planning on leaving, after all. He had refused the movie deal, since he absolutely hated the guy they had picked to replace his former partner, so he had planned on finding another hotel room, preferably with one bed this time. Sasori didn't exactly wish to be reminded of this whole deal every time he entered his current home…

He spared another look to the clock.

* * *

It felt like he was sighing for the fiftieth time after going through the security gates. Was this really what he wanted? After all, Sasori had been, or _was_, more like it, kind of worth being around when one got to know him. In other words, hadn't Deidara wanted to be close to him, as more than a friend, for years now? Then why was he leaving now? It wasn't his nature to quit, ever. If he had to describe himself, he would say that he was one of those people who gave a hundred and fifty percent of themselves to things they cared about. That he would prefer to die trying than be a quitter.

_It wasn't about him, in the end._ _Of course I would've preferred to stay with him._

His partner was fun to be around, yes, but one couldn't really say the same about anything else in Hollywood. The people were so fake and everything seemed like one huge set. No one was ever what they seemed, in good or in bad. They were always _acting_. And Deidara couldn't take it anymore.

Still, he would miss Sasori. Maybe the redhead would agree to come down to Paris sometime? Or some other city in France? Or even Europe, in general...

"Stop daydreaming or you'll miss your boarding, brat."

"Sasori?" Deidara asked instinctively before whirling around and spotting his working partner standing before him in the crowded airport. He quickly took off his sunglasses, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, because this was plain weird, all the while completely ignoring the fact that they were two Hollywood actors in an airport, where someone might, with any luck, recognize them. Actually, he thought he had heard a squeal or three just now, so they had probably been found already. But this was _Sasori Akasuna_, the same Sasori who hated crowds and airports and people and the world in general whenever he felt like it. "What are you doing here, un?"

The man addressed shrugged, taking off his own sunglasses and dangling them in his hand as he replied casually, as if reading it straight from his script, "What do you mean, what am I doing here? My flight for Paris is leaving at eight PM."

* * *

_C'est tout~_  
Nope, this wasn't a change of place or time or anything. This was the end of this drabble-thingy. Hope you liked that? If anything felt weird or something, don't be afraid to ask. |'D

If you saw that ending coming... well sue me, I guess it may have been predictable. Drabble is a drabble.

And I apologize my lack of knowledge when it comes to French and France in general. I tried~ |D If you wish to correct something, please do~

If you wanted to be really, really, really awesome and get me around to writing something else, review~? :D


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